Call of the Trainer
by Caldazar Atreides
Summary: It's the end of the last semester at the Violet Trainer's School, which means Final Exams. Only there's more at stake here than just trainer certification. For the few, those who excel in these challenges, will be able to walk away with something more....
1. The Professor's Visit

**A/N:** My first Pokémon fiction I'm placing on this site, so please review. It's a trainer's school story, taking place at the end of the last semester. You know what that means: Final Exams. They're so important they had to be made into proper nouns. Anyway, there's more at stake here than just trainer certification. For the few, those who excel in these challenges, will be able to walk away with something more. . . .

This story is actually the first of a bigger epic, but I set it up so that each could stand-alone. This _will_ eventually develop into a journey fic, but not the badge-collecting kind.

**Disclaimer (to be applied to all further chapters):** I do not own Pokémon.

Story is approximately eight pages long, 2,772 words (not including title). Eat up!

* * *

_Sea of silver, sky of gold,_

_Crystal waters I behold._

_Western nation, great stronghold,_

_Listen to my tale unfold._

**Chapter 1: The Professor's Visit**

The wind swept in from the east, a sign of forthcoming trouble. Flowing down along the path of Route 31, a sudden gust swept open the overcoat of an old man. His long gray hair shook as the man shivered, the chill air disturbing the little warmth he contained beneath the covering.

Professor Coy was annoyed, partially because of the lingering winter temperatures, but mostly because he was required to attend this . . . _selection_, of Trainer School graduates. Anything that drew him away from his research work involving pokémon natures was enough to agitate him, but for something as unnecessary as handing out starter pokémon to "qualified rookies"—if there even was such a thing—he really did not really see a point. After all, among the graduates, it has always been the students with the highest overall GPA who received a starter pokémon. The faculty did not need his input, yet they always requested it. In fact, he considered his role in the ceremony to be nothing short of figurehead, a pretty face, expected to do nothing more than smile and nod while three wet-behind-the-ears adolescent neophytes with delusions of grandeur were paired with similarly young creatures of extraordinary power.

Great, now he _really_ did not want to go.

As the multi-story Violet Gym tower rose over the trees, Coy reflected on the real reason why he was actually going: because the Johto League, those arrogant blowhards in charge of his funding, demanded it of him. He huffed at the thought. He could remember the time when he was aide to Professor Snapdragon, when the current ruling Elite received _their_ first starter pokémon. Now here he was, thirty years later, walking down the long road his former mistress had taken, carrying three sphere-shaped objects in a leather pouch on a one-way journey to their destinies.

* * *

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Thirty-nine minutes in, question 49: Meticulous, Define. Short Answer.

Ryan's pen scratched the surface as he wrote out his answer:

_Extremely careful and precise, a pokémon with a meticulous attitude will focus more on making its attacks connect than dodging those of its opponent. As a result, meticulous pokémon are slower and more open to attack. _

Pokémonities: the course of instincts and logic. Hard, because there wasn't a precise science to it, not like in the video games. Fun as those have been, as Ryan quickly found out, the real world did not operate that way. He was one to know.

Thirty-nine and one-half minutes, final question. . . .

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

_Curse you Simon & your infernal tapping!_ thought Ryan as his concentration was broken. Normally, under any other circumstance, this would not have bothered him, but his nearby classmate had been tap-tap-tapping away since before the test began. It was irritating, not just to him, or to the other test takers, but apparently to the teacher as well, who was too mousy to do anything about it.

Short Essay. Question 50: Lapras

Protect

Ice Beam

Hydro Pump

Calm Mind

Give two preferred natures and explain why.

Ryan baulked. That's not even a question!

Thirty-nine minutes, forty seconds. Ink touched paper.

_A calm nature because Lapras' primary weaknesses—electric- & grass-type attacks—fall mostly in the special category. Since calm-natured pokémon will often devote most of their energy toward warding off distance attacks, their own immediate strength is often overlooked. With a moveset composed mostly of special-class attacks, Lapras has no need to rely on physical strength._

On the far side of the room, a desk chair scuffed against the floor.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

_Lapras would also benefit from a timid nature, where the individual values speed over physical action . . . _

_The ol' fight or flight analogy_, thought Ryan.

Time was ticking away. Thirty-nine minutes and fifty-five seconds.

_Because none of Lapras' attacks are categorized as physical, it does not require the use of brute strength to subdue an opponent. However_—

_Tap. Tap. Tappity. Tap. Tap._

—_a high speed is a more suitable substitute for a pokémon weak against electric-type attacks, provided it's high enough_.

Ryan tapped the pen down to finish the short essay with a period. Finished, he checked his watch. Forty minutes, six seconds.

Out of an hour. Man, was he getting slow.

Pushing back against his chair, he stood up and walked among the rows to the front of the room. But first . . .

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tappity. Tap— SNAP!_

"Hey!" Heads turned as two halves of a mechanical pencil dropped to the floor beside Simon's desk. The teacher remained unresponsive, suddenly devoutly focused on the papers in front of him, 'though Ryan thought he saw the man's head twitch in his general direction. Mousy-ness worked both ways.

Near the front of the room, Ryan looked for an empty spot to drop his paper onto Mr. Donahue's desk. There wasn't one. He closed his eyes in exasperation, afraid to open them lest they confirm his suspicions. Taking in a deep breath, he opened them. Sure enough, there it was.

Four sheets, stapled at a right angle to the left side of the packet, with a name done in elaborate cursive and adorned by a simple smiley face. While the decoration was irritating, mocking him with an impotent, silly grim, it was the name that caused him anguish.

_Karen_. She beat him. Again.

Now thoroughly galled, Ryan slammed his own four page test next on top, striding sullenly out of the classroom, down the hall, & to his locker. Combination: three times right, left forty-two, right . . .

"That was pretty mean of you."

Ah, that voice. That sweet, serene, yet stern voice. One that he admired, that he loathed. Ryan didn't need to turn around to know whose it belonged to.

Opening the locker, he shoved in his textbook, Studies of Pokémon Natures & Attitudes. When he heard no further comment, he began to smile. He remembered the scene down to the most minute detail. "Can't say that I really regret it."

"It was still mean."

_Your description of every one of my actions_, Ryan thought. He grimaced, slamming the door shut as he rounded on the intruder in his life.

Wearing a royal blue plaid skirt and with her long raven hair tied back with a hair band, Karen Nadian did not look all that intimidating. But Ryan was not fooled, not like all the other guys in his class. He knew that the threat that he was facing was not as apparent as was initially perceived. He knew, from experience, that Karen was extremely quick and intelligent, a strong combination that made her formidable in the classroom as well as on the battle field. She was tall for a girl, taller than many of the female students in their grade, yet even she had to tilt her head back a bit to face up to Ryan. It was a trait he admired about her: her courage to stand up to a challenge. Ryan had to smile. It wouldn't be the same without her.

Karen answered that smile with a glare. Ryan smiled harder. _Come on, you disenchanting prissy, try and call me down_.

Karen simply continued to stare back, unfazed by Ryan's mocking grin. Her scowl deepened.

"You just don't get it, Ryan."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't." She leaned in closer. "You think that just because you're smart other people have to defer to you. You think that since your skills are better than the rest, they have to prostrate themselves when they ask permission for your help. Well, here's a news flash: they owe you nothing."

Ryan opened his mouth to argue, multiple counter-points coming to mind, but Karen continued, cutting short any chance of that.

"You don't understand the values a leader must uphold. You demand submission. You demand perfection. In the real world, those two values won't mix. That's why you can't make any friends, and that's why you'll _always_ be second best."

With that said, Karen turned around to walk away, not leaving Ryan any room for a response. Not that one was needed. The silence left in her wake conveyed the mood of their conversation rather well.

Unfortunately, that awkward silence was broken. Before Karen walked three paces, an ear-wrenching screech resounded throughout the hall. The loudspeakers had just come on.

"Attention. Karen Nadian and Ryan Pilate, please report to the headmaster's office. Karen Nadian and Ryan Pilate."

Ryan's long stride quickly brought him alongside his rival. "I guess we will continue this little conversation later."

"Oh? I didn't think that there was anything left to say."

She didn't even so much as glance at him. Instead, she deliberately forced herself to walk quicker, forging an already clear path ahead of her antagonist. Ryan smiled to himself, and shortened his stride enough to let her keep the lead. _Let her embarrass herself_, he thought.

The hallway brightened as the right-hand wall gave way to glass, offering a fair view of the scattered wilderness to the east. Johto had fought tooth and claw to resist the new development process, but it was losing. Perhaps, within a century, the back country that makes up most of this great and ancient region would be gone. He paused for a moment, as he arrived at the last pane, while Karen continued ahead. A moment, long enough to process all he had just thought and formulate as question, the answer to which was . . . a shrug. A dismissal.

The door to the headmaster's office slid open as Karen stepped in its sensors, and stayed open long enough for Ryan to step through. The secretary, a middle-aged man wearing a flannel, button-down dress shirt and an earpiece phone, greeted them with the classic "wait-a-moment" finger. He was busy talking to another person over the headset about the supply of ground coffee for the faculty lounge, but he did press the button to unlock the sensors for the door, admitting them into the actual office.

The office was situated on the east side of the building, so it overlooked much of the same wilderness Ryan passed earlier. Framed in this window was Professor Brash, the head administrator of the Violet Trainer School. He, too, appeared to be taking in the view. For the few moments after the two students had entered, silence again reigned. This time, it was Karen who broke it.

"Sir? You wanted to see us."

With a relieved sign, Brash turned around. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a trimmed, jet-black beard. His hand dwarfed the full cup of coffee he was holding, an oddity since it was after lunch.

"Yes. Please, sit."

He gestured to two simple chairs occupying the space in front of his desk. As Ryan and Karen settled in, Brash seated himself in his own leather armchair. The mug he rested on the table. Heat and steam rose, quaffing about in the air above the desk.

"The scores have come in. Congratulations, valedictorian and salutatorian of this year's graduating class." The way he nodded to Karen first left no doubt as to who received which honor, 'though Karen was too shocked to be smug.

Karen straightened. "Excuse me?"

Eyes closed, arms crossed, and chin down, Ryan tried to interpret. "What she means to say is—"

"_How?_"

There, Karen had blurted it out. Brash's eyebrows rose—not in surprise or confusion, but out of habit. The Head always acted surprised when people spoke their minds so irreverently. It seemed to amuse him. Hopefully Ryan could make a recovery. Ryan almost sighed. "We mean to say that we only just took our Pokémonities test last period and we still have several tests for tomorrow and Friday, not to mention our Battle and Wilderness Trials . . . "

Brash folded his hands on the desk. "Trifles. You each have the highest scores and the most elective credits of any student here."

"They're that good, huh?"

Brash smiled—a rarity. He was never so loose around his students. Karen was practically beaming. Even Ryan found a smile beginning to form at the corners his mouth.

"You both have worked very hard, and, short of a committing a serious violation of school rules and policy, I have no doubt that you'll both graduate with the school's highest honors."

"Easily," Ryan said before thinking, as if he were finishing his mentor's sentence.

Brash raised that eyebrow again. "That's good to hear. Now, it's the final round of your Battle Trials are tomorrow. As I understand it, you two will be battling each other."

Ryan stole a quick glance over to Karen, trying to pierce through into her mind. She responded in kind. Neither turned their head. Each wanted to know what the other was thinking.

Brash leaned back in his chair, swiveling ninety degrees tone side to view the wide expanse of forest that was the school's backyard. "This will be quite interesting. Neither of you have been defeated by the other six challengers in your division."

Brash did not have to elaborate further. There can be only one person with a spotless record. That person will have had defeated all the other participants. No losses will be accepted.

"I expect a fair match tomorrow," the headmaster said as he swiveled back around to face them. "No foul play, no misconduct. And get some rest. You'll both need to be at your best to impress Professor Coy."

Ryan straightened, caught unawares by this announcement. "So soon? But, the League representative is not supposed to show up 'til the graduation ceremonies more than a week from now. Why is he so early?"

"My dear colleague is a very thorough man, scrutinizing every one of his subjects down to the most minute detail." He waved a hand as if brushing something off. "He just wants to be sure that the pokémon he's bringing will not be wasted or mistreated."

Ryan nodded, understanding what he said. Normally, a beginning trainer would receive a pokémon from his or her town's gym leader. But the Trainers School was League-funded. As such, the League provided all of the school's pokémon, including the supplying of special starters for three select students. Of course, this means that they assume a degree of liability, should anything go wrong. The natural instinct would be to act a little cautious.

"I guess we can understand that."

Karen made a move to protest his use of "we," but stopped herself when she recognized the bait. Even so, the reaction was enough to get Ryan to smile.

"Good. Now, that's all I wanted to talk to you about for the time being." The headmaster of the Violet City League Trainers School turned his chair to face back out the window. "You still have finals to prepare for tomorrow and Friday. Study, rest up, and eat well you two."

With that they departed. Neither said a word nor glanced at the other on their way out. However, once out the door leading to the hallway, Ryan stepped aside to let Karen pass. She didn't acknowledge his presence as she went parallel the wall in the opposite direction. Ryan shrugged, catching her meaning, before turning around and heading off in the other direction.

His mind wandered to the final match tomorrow. He would finally be able to show up that nuisance. Yet, in a way, he was not yet ready to be rid of her.

She was the only worthy opponent he had left in this place.

* * *

Professor Brash took his first sip of coffee all day. He was so engrossed in the present situation that he did not even care that it was cold.

Having given them that information, it was interesting reading their reactions. Analytically, Karen had the upper hand, being more proficient in the use of pokémon attacks and abilities. However, this would not stop Ryan from throwing her through a few loops. That boy seemed to perceive the world differently than others, noticing angles and making connections others simply didn't see. But, despite his unorthodox methods, his tactics came off as a little too . . . brutal, for pokémon battling.

With this in mind, Brash struggled to reason out the winner, the answer to the facts and conditions set by the circumstances. But, subconsciously, his mind had already made one. The words simply rose up above the fumbled attempts at a calculated match-up, finally popping like a bubble at the surface of a glass of water.

"It's going to be an interesting day tomorrow."


	2. The Battle Trial

**A/N:** Well, I didn't get any reviews for the last chapter, but I did get replies to reviews I posted on other stories. Thank you, authors who replied (even though you will probably never read this), for your words awoke my writing spirit anew!

. . . Yeah, that sounded pretty corny, but you can only work with what you got.

Anyway, despite its name, this chapter is mostly just to set up the location, feel, and tension of the situation. The next chapter **will** feature more of the battle, I promise. At least that answers one reason as to why I've left this story alone for as long as I did: I'm uploading both this chapter and the next simultaneously (the other reason being that my basement was flooded **twice** and the cable around the neighborhood went down **twice** by **two** nearly-simultaneous, massive thunderstorms, which kept me more-or-less preoccupied).

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter; it'll disclaim everything that needs to be disclaimed throughout the entire story.

Chapter is approximately five pages long, 1,663 words (not including title). Chow down!

**Chapter 2: The Battle Trial**

On any normal Wednesday these hallways would have been packed with students going between classes. Even on the Finals' schedule you would occasionally find several students cramming in corners or at the few tables outside some of the larger classrooms. Ryan even recalled once seeing a lax second-year on top of one of the vending machines. But today, today especially of all days, it was deserted; even when he passed that same condiment dispenser and found no lounging sophomore.

Everyone was at the arena, waiting for him.

Today marked the last of the Finals matches in the school's round-robin Battle Trials, including one of the most attractive match-ups yet: Ryan Pilate vs. Karen Nadian; two of the School's most distinguished students, salutatorian and valedictorian respectively.

Ryan did not mind this title of second-best. He understood that it was a laudable title, nothing to be ashamed of. There are many who work all their waking hours for such an honorific. He just didn't care. He already knew that he was better than Karen. Every student could be sorted into their proper standings with excellent precision, but when it came to accuracy the School was seriously lacking. It was an error in the ranking system that he had come to accept and, as such, not something he let bother him.

Along with the absence of the other students, Ryan himself was out-of place. Because School representation was not a necessity for the Battle Trials the students were not required to wear their uniforms. In fact, they were encouraged not to. With graduation not too far off, the School wanted to stimulate expressions of independence and self-reliance. Seriously, if you can't get up without being able to succinctly decide what to wear in the morning, without help, how could you possibly survive a journey across the region?

With this in mind many of the students went out of their way to make the event into a freak fashion show. Multi-colored and clashing outfits, scarves, berets, headbands, and obscenely short skirts and shorts decorated many as they tried to put up the façade of a serious challenge. Just two days ago, in another match-up, there was a girl decked-up in high heels. Ryan practically choked on the idea of somebody hiking in those. High heels! These people knew nothing of the world outdoors. What little they got seemed to come from TV.

Ryan would definitely not journey in something as nonsensical as high heels. His choice of clothing was more conventional: denim jeans with lacquered hiking boots, water-resistant and freshly broken-in, to go with a black shirt and a long-sleeved, high-collared jacket with a seam that ran down his front on the left. The jeans had an extra pocket on the right leg, for extra storage space. The collar could be worn open or clasped, depending upon the temperature, and the jacket can be removed and easily stored.

He decided against wearing a hat. It would only hide his eyes and get in the way.

The only adornment on his whole person was a large glass emblem, amber in color, positioned on the left collar, just beneath his jawbone. It somehow felt . . . appropriate. He wanted to follow in the footsteps of the greats, after all.

The beginnings of a smile crept onto his lips as he stepped inside the holding area adjacent to the arena. It was a utility room, designed to hold and store Pokémon for School-sanctioned events and activities. Events such as this one.

Ryan knew upon entering the room that he was not alone. He did not expect Karen to be here, and that prediction had held true. More likely she had arrived earlier, promptness more befitting her style. No, the other person in the room was the supervising teacher of the shift. Whenever the holding area was in use, a member of the faculty or staff was always there to manage and supervise, and today of all days proved to be no exception.

The teacher's name was Mr. Costello, the School's resident Phys. Ed. and Battle Coordination teacher. He was a tough man who expected nothing but the student's optimal effort. Anything less was considered to be weak, while anything more was scorned as arrogance, even stupidity. He made little effort to hide his belief that Ryan was anything but the latter. Ryan ignored him as well. It was neither a large problem nor one which required his immediate attention.

The storage unit was situated in the center of the wall to his left, halfway between the door he entered through and the arena entrance. Most other places would have preferred to place it in the corner, but this room was specifically built around the system, the layout designed to optimize mobility about the room itself.

Taking his School ID from his pocket, Ryan swiped it along the device's scanner. His name, School-selected ID number, selection, and standing flashed across the screen. Upon selecting the option that would allow him to access the Pokémon he would be using, a bright flash of light flared up to the left of the machine, quickly materializing into a pokéball. Species, type, attacks, and stats (given in numbers unlike what the games use) appeared.

Ryan's features contorted, disappointed, at the sight of the first.

Every student at the School gets a partner pokémon in their final year, and an additional pokémon as the teachers deem fit. Ryan, one of the School's top ten honors students, had the maximum of two. The goal of this was to establish a repertoire between would-be trainer and pokémon, as well as give the student time to witness how practical certain moves worked. They were school-owned and trained by the Violet Gym Leader, and would only cooperate when overseen by a Gym handler.

The one he was holding right now wasn't quite worthless, but not near phenomenal enough for his liking. Despite the hours he put into working with it, there was only so much it could do, and its combinations were very well known. Sure, its attacks had a fairly wide coverage, but he—the computer identified it as male—wasn't physically strong enough to make use of them.

He would use this one first.

The second made him smile. Well, almost. The typing was good for offense and his—for it was also a male—speed was impressive. It opened up options. Yes, he could work with this one. Finished, Ryan pocketed the balls and nodded to the teacher. He was ready.

The Battle Trial is pretty straight-forward. Each student faces seven of their peers in a round-robin tournament with one pokémon each. For honors students and higher, they could use two.

For Ryan, today was his last day. His score was a flawless six wins. Of course, what mattered for passing was not victory, but performance. This was the chance for the students to show off their skills and what they learned these last few years to the teachers, mainly the few selected judges.

The teacher ushered him to the arena, a slightly-less-than-regulation-size battle field, as most of the pokémon the school holds are rather small & tame. Across the field, Karen walks in, wearing her own trainer outfit, which was both stylish _and_ workable. This was good. Ryan allowed a smile, not having expected anything less from his top rival. Underclassmen and other spectators lined the stands. In the presidential box, the headmaster sat next to a man with long gray hair and a brown overcoat. That would Professor Coy from New Bark Town. It would appear that Brash had been serious about him showing up.

Ryan turned to face his opponent. Karen had also noticed the special guest.

"You nervous?" he asked, casually placing his hands on his hips. This was just a taunt, to get her riled up. Karen wasn't the type to blow-up; the statement was just to get her to focus on him and, concurrently, the match. She responded with a similarly neutral posture, a sign that she too was unaffected by her surroundings.

"No more than you are."

"That's good." Let her interpret that as she will, Ryan was going to enjoy this match. He continued to stare at her as the referee stepped onto the field.

"This is the final match of the Battle Trial round-robin tournament. In the green corner, Ryan Pilate." She—the referee—raised her green flag and pointed it in Ryan's direction. The crowd started to clap, and a few yells rang out, both supportive and mocking. Apparently the teachers had gotten _too_ lax with discipline.

"In the red corner, Karen Nadian." The referee did likewise with the red flag in her other hand. This time, not only was there cheering, but a banner went up! Jeez, someone put a lot of thought into this.

"The rules are two pokémon each." The crowd continued to cheer. "A time limit of three minutes per round, maximum of four rounds." Time limits were common in pokémon matches, to prevent over-exhaustion and serious injury. Anyone who thought differently put too much faith in the misleading TV show about the early adventures of Champion Ketchum. The referee could call a round at any time, so long as she felt the pokémon were in danger. A medical professional (not of the Joy family, I might add) was on standby for possible first aid cases.

This was good. We might need him.

"On signal, release your pokémon."

Ryan pulled the first pokéball out of his pocket. Maybe, when this was all over, he would get a proper holder for them. Not a belt—too traditional and too open. They could fall off or be stolen without him even knowing. Something for inside his jacket, perhaps.

The referee lowered her flags. "Release!"

Two red-and-white spheres flew through the air. Two flashes burst in the mid-morning light, revealing two bluish figures, one slim and one plump.

"Match"—the referee raised her flags—"begin!"


	3. The Unconventional Attack

**A/N:** Chapter three up! So what if my few days turned into a week? It's just like I promised, with lots of action. In fact, one might say there's too much. I want to hear what you think of it — what am I doing that doesn't make sense? Where can I improve and what suggestions can you give that you think will make it more engaging?

The feel for the battle was difficult to keep sped-up. I had to go through several (dozen) revisions, but I finally got it to a point where I'm satisfied. I had to do a lot of research on this one, mostly on the little science bit near the middle. It's not much, but it will make you think.

I have the next few chapters mapped out; have had for a long time. I just need to write them out, in full, then you'll be able to read them.

Oh, for future reference, the title of trainer school will be capitalized only when used as a proper noun, referring mainly to the Violet Trainer School. Think of it in the way you would write high school, or university.

I'm going away for a few weeks (not like you'll notice, with my update record), so I wanted to finish this before then. Aren't you glad I did?

**Disclaimer: **Nothing to update yet.

This chapter is approximately seven pages long, or 2,330 words (not including title). This is a big one, but I'm sure I'll serve up much longer in the future.

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Unconventional Attack**

Right away, Ryan knew that this would be a problem. The first round of the final match was about to go off in the worst way, with Ryan's Marill vs. Karen's Meditite. Not exactly a thrilling scenario, is it? _Well_, Ryan thought, _I'll just have to adjust_. He quickly snuck a glance at the referee, to confirm the flag positions.

Paying attention to the referee is sometimes just as important as the match itself. They don't force themselves between combatants like boxing referees do. Trying to stop a pokémon attack in that manner can be a very risky (not to mention stupid) move. Even so, they have to be in control of the match at all times, and they exercised this control through the pokémons' respective trainers. Trainers, likewise, had to keep a constant track on him or her, knowing where their attention is as well as their focus, to react immediately to their signal. The repercussions for not doing so . . . well, let's just say many matches were lost due to a trainer's carelessness.

It was Karen who made the first move.

"Just like we practiced—charge in and don't give them room!" Karen yelled to her fight-type. Ryan grimaced. With a pokémon like Meditite, close combat was the preferred method of engagement. Marill, on the other hand, with its stubby arms and legs, needed some space to gather momentum. Space Ryan intended to gain.

"Give it one-two!" Karen shouted. The Meditite charged in, fists raised. It (Ryan failed to identify the gender) would cover the distance to the Aquamouse in a matter of seconds. When it reached its target, Ryan's Marill would be pounded into the ground, and the match would be over before it really even got started.

For those few precious seconds, Ryan didn't do a thing. He didn't need to.

Marill was prepared.

* * *

The views of the combatants is perhaps the most unique and thrilling of views a story could be told in, but for now we must take a step back. Aspiring teenage trainers have their own problems, and while Ryan's were more immediate, for the moment, the opinions of one particular spectator of this match took precedence.

Professor Coy had been sent by the Pokémon League Supervisory Committee, the joint authority (alongside the Champion and the Elite 4) which oversaw League finances and resources allotment. His duty, as a part of this collective whole, was to assess the capabilities of the selected trainer schools' graduates and determine their eligibility for League grants and assistance, both financial and material. It belittled him to say it was why he existed, but distributing pokémon to new trainers was his job.

Five minutes before the match began, Coy arrived at the stadium's presidential box to sit beside his old colleague Prof. Henry Brash. The accommodations weren't glamorous, seeing as the only luxury separating it from the other seats was the comfort of having a roof over your head.

"Glad to see you've decided to come out," Prof. Brash said, more sincere than mocking.

Coy nodded, assuming his seat. From what he had heard, this match was special because it pitted the School's two top students against one another.

Coy looked down into the arena, focusing on the student whom even Brash praised as the best battler the school had produced in all his days as principal. In truth, he didn't hold high hopes about this kid, but if Brash was bragging about him then he must have some potential. Still, Coy had to wonder how much of it was exaggerated.

His friend patted him on the shoulder while resting the drink from his hand onto the table beside him.

"Sit back, relax. I guarantee that you will enjoy this . . . "

And he was right. The match began in a way that surpassed Coy's expectations. He watched in amazement as the Meditite swung, witnessing as the Marill simply rolling to the side.

You heard me. He rolled.

And he continued rolling, picking up speed as he reached Karen's end of the field. Faster, faster he rolled, even as he made the tight turn to come back around.

Meditite had regained its composure from missing earlier. It stood now, facing the onrush of Ryan's little blue Aquamouse Pokémon. The situation from only moments before had completely reversed itself. Prof. Coy was duly, truly impressed.

Impressed, but not quite satisfied.

* * *

Karen, at least, seemed to be catching on.

"He's trying to build up its momentum! Intercept it!"

The Meditite had assumed a new stance, with legs spread and arms raised palms-forward, ready to meet the onrush of the water-type head-on.

_That's good thinking, but not quite it_, Ryan thought, inwardly smiling at how well this was going. She understood that even a Marill can be strong, provided it gains the proper amount of momentum. But Ryan wasn't waiting for momentum—Marill had already built up enough to deliver a hard blow.

He smiled, openly now. Karen was playing right into his hands.

The rollout technique was designed to overwhelm an opponent with a full-frontal assault, but it wasn't Ryan's style to attack head-on. It just wasn't the way he played it, as Karen would soon find out. A person who perfects textbook-case attacks would never be able to outwit him, for they think in such a restricted and straight-forward manner.

"Steady, Meditite!" Karen kept her pokémon on their toes by talking to them, encouraging them. At times it amazed Ryan how different he was from her. Conversely, Ryan never had to issue a command. When the time came, the Marill didn't wait, didn't falter. It had trained this maneuver countless times, and its form was dead-on.

In mid-flight, it unrolled, delivering a powerful roundhouse tail-slam to the stunned Meditite. The oil-filled ball at the tip may be lighter-than-water, but it was massive enough to knock the Meditite off its feet.

"Meditite!" Karen practically yelled its name. The Meditate Pokémon looked winded—its hand clutching its stomach. But it was sitting upright, a less-than optimal outcome.

_It was able to endure the tail slam_, Ryan thought, a little taken aback. Karen had obviously been working on her pokémons' stamina. It seems that even she understood that attacks were only a part of pokémon battling, and that being able to stand up to them was just as vital to victory as being able to deliver them. If there was one thing he had to give his rival, it was that she covered all the bases. It was what set her apart from the other students.

This was why she was his only worthy opponent.

"Are you ok?" The Meditite nodded, getting slowly to its feet. "Then get back at it! Just get in close, then you can overpower it." Karen had wasted no time. The Meditite was standing now, anxious to continue. She was giving it her usual pep-talk, encouraging it while directing its frustration in a constructive direction. This was nothing unusual. What unnerved Ryan was what was said at the end, when she gave it a grin and a thumbs-up. "Remember, use that special move!"

The Meditite nodded, then turned toward Marill.

Ryan did not like the look in its eye. That kind of determination was hardly normal in a school-trained pokémon.

"Stand your ground, Marill," Ryan said through gritted teeth. He had been preparing that move just for this match, and he was more than disgruntled that it hadn't worked as well as he had hoped. He couldn't pull the same trick twice, so this left the second confrontation strategy—the more frequently used one.

The Meditite charged forward, fist raised to pummel the Aquamouse. Marill responded by releasing a flurry of bubbles, temporarily distorting its vision, and used the diversion to roll to the side. But even so, the Meditite's fist grazed him. The water-type squeaked in pain as it rolled before finally coming to a stop in a kneeling position. Right away, Ryan noticed that it was suffering from minor spasms that inhibited its movement.

Ok, that was definitely _not_ normal.

Ryan glared over at the Meditite, who had its fist raised in the strong-arm pose, a smug look on its face. There was only one move a Meditite could learn that could cause such effects, and it was a rare trait at that. But then, it was so like Karen. He should have expected it.

Thunderpunch.

Ryan frowned. It was time to adopt another strategy.

* * *

Prof. Coy was completely absorbed by the spectacle, especially on the Marill's rolling counter. It was a complex maneuver that must have taken weeks to perfect. This little demonstration had piqued his interests. How many more strategies like it did this kid have?

"I told you that you were going to enjoy this," Prof. Brash, who had been sitting beside him, commented. "It was a neat little scheme." He glanced over at Coy. "Too bad it didn't quite work."

Coy nodded, absently, but at the moment he didn't agree to anything. He was in observation mode, a condition his mind set itself into whenever he encountered a situation that intrigued him. It was the same way when he was studying a specimen in a lab.

Sighing, Coy crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair for a more comfortable position. Of course, it was a one-shot deal. It relied solely on the element of surprise, and even then the Marill didn't have the force to pull it off. All the time spent teaching it might as well have been wasted.

He was intrigued, yes, but not entirely pleased.

* * *

The true danger behind electricity is amperage, not voltage. A person could survive having a thousand volts of electricity running through his or her body, but it only takes 0.1 amperes to stop their heart. What Marill received was definitely less than 1000 volts, but its resistance was weakened due to its moist skin. The blow was also current-limited so it wasn't lethal, but it went without saying that Marill was shocked by what happened, and in more ways than one.

Marill struggled to stand up, finding his body slightly less than cooperative. The blow had done a real number on his nervous system. Ryan only hoped that he would be able to maintain his balance, because it looked like Karen would soon turn this into a brawl.

"Attack it again! Get in close and knock it back!"

Gee, isn't she predictable?

Every pokémon needs a good brawling strategy. You never know when the two combatants could collide in a tangle of limbs and various other appendage (like vines or tentacles). There are also times when distance simply cannot be gained. Marill's strategy was less than optimal, having only its body and tail for delivering any significant physical blows, so Ryan didn't have many options open to work with.

"Marill." The Aquamouse turned to face him. "Slow it down with your water gun."

It wouldn't be the huge torrent of water like what's shown in the animated television show, but it certainly wasn't something you wanted to get hit by, owing to the fact that it packed as much force as a fire hose.

Marill complied, spitting a significant amount of water at the charging foe, managing to catch the Meditite on the shoulder. The blast must have stung, but the Meditite didn't slow. It continued it charge, fists at level with its waist.

Ryan clinched his teeth. He had seen this move demonstrated before, in an instructional video during Mr. Costello's Battle Coordination class. The Meditite was using the full length of its arms to create room for a thrust. When it was close enough, it would swing those arms forward, the momentum drastically increasing. . . .

"Marill, roll!"

Marril complied, but the Meditite's speed had allowed it to catch up quicker than expected. Even so, it looked like Marill would clear—

A feint!

Ryan looked on as the Meditite's fist connected with Marill's torso in a right hook. The added drive blew Marill off the ground and into the air. He landed in a slump several feet away, and lay there.

After the dust settled, Marill made a visible effort to rise. However, after a few moments of struggling to push himself up, he let himself drop. The referee wasted no time in declaring a decision.

"Marill is unable to battle!" Unwavering, the referee raised her red flag in the direction of Karen. "Round one, finished. By K.O, the first round goes to Meditite!"

_Oh well_, Ryan thought as he recalled his fallen pokémon. He didn't have that much faith in the Marill anyways. He was loyal, yes, but not very adaptable. Not to mention the fact that he only had three months to work with the little guy. Ryan had given him a shot, and he gave his best in return, but it just wasn't good enough. Raising his head high, he passed the ball to the sideline medical professional, simultaneously pulling the second one out of his pocket.

He looked over at the Meditite, who was beaming at Karen's praise. Or was it from winning the battle? Well, why shouldn't it be happy? It had been able to recognize and anticipate Marill's movements. Was it the pokémon's fighting skill and experience that pulled it through, or had its psychic skills developed to such a degree that its abilities bordered the precognitive?

Ryan glanced down at the center of the field. He didn't care. The source of its power was irrelevant.

It wouldn't last long enough in the next round to test either theory.

White-knuckled, Ryan gripped his second sphere for a throw. _This_ one would not be like the previous. Out of all the pokémon he trained here in the School, this was his best. This was a fighter he could depend on, with strength to back it up.

The ball flew. He would not lose.

"Round Two!"


	4. Trial and Error

**A/N:** Well, I'm back. As you can see, I'm not dead.

For those wanting an explanation for my absence, I spent a week on a llama trek in Wyoming. It was a thoroughly enjoyable experience (one of my friends had his hat chewed out by a bear, no joke). After that I had to prepare for my semester abroad in Australia. Now that I'm here, in the land Down Under, I'll be able to get some inspiration and write more.

Well, on to the story then. Here it is, the long-awaited (unfortunate for you) conclusion to the Battle Trial between Ryan and Karen. This chapter was more difficult to write than the previous, believe it or not. I had to call in help at one point because I wasn't sure how to continue. However, once I had an idea of what would happen, the rest was attention to details, and those just fell into place.

For those who inquired as to my shift in POV last chapter, from Ryan to Coy, it was because the characters I centered on at the moment had different attitudes about life, and I tried to reflect their personalities in my writing. Ryan's was more personal, to the point of being egocentric, so it felt right to give his thoughts one-liners every once and awhile. Coy, on the other hand, is more scientific, preferring to view things at a distance. I apologize if I threw people off with this shift; I thought I had separated the two enough with the dividers, but it turns out that I'm still developing it. I write in third person, so I don't feel the need to put the character's name at the front as a subheading. Since these are the only two you'll have to hear from in this story (as far as I know), it shouldn't be too hard to differentiate.

In my fics, high level means a great deal of experience, nothing more. "Stats" as we know from the games are too complex to be accurately applied in a realistic setting, and so I don't use them. While there is no exact way to measure it, like in the games, it generally goes that a pokémon with more experience understands their fighting capabilities more than amateurs do. For example, to a beginning boxer, a punch is a punch, but an experienced boxer knows that certain punches have differing degrees of power, precision, and speed.

For those who want a guide, sentences (including one-word sentences, even though it defies the laws of grammar) in _italics_ are thoughts.

**Disclaimer:** Still nothing to update.

This chapter is approximately six pages long, 2,823 words (not including title, disclaimer, or author notes). I must say that I am rather pleased with that word count. Chow down!

* * *

**Chapter 4: Trial and Error**

"Round Two!"

The sphere split along its equator, light exploding out to take shape. When the flash faded, it revealed a rubescent lupine of the Vulpix species. Immediately upon his (for he was male) release, he howled, releasing a small stream of fire as he did so. More than florid, he looked vibrant and alive, having already begun a stare-down with the Meditite only a few meters away.

Quickly, Ryan ran over the basics, one more time, to set himself in the right frame of mind.

A fire-type, Vulpix had fair agility and was therefore good at dodging. His lean frame and quadruped skeleton made him much more nimble than Marill, and so more adaptive to abrupt changes in battle conditions. Ryan had been sure to build on this, eventually coming up with a fighting style designed to enhance this mobility. With his body low, paws spread out beneath it in a loose manner, Vulpix was ready to dodge in any direction at a moment's notice.

But that wasn't the only thing Ryan had trained Vulpix on. Crossing his arms close to his chest, Ryan gazed over the battlefield. Solemnly so, in his mind.

This would be over in an instant.

"Attack, Meditite!"

The sky-blue psychic charged, fists lowered at its waist in same manner that was used to finish off Ryan's Marill earlier in the fight. Vulpix ducked his head under the first, and then began backpedaling away. He continued to build up speed until he was hoping backward, easily timing himself with the rhythm of Meditite's swings. The psychic did not land a single hit. Even if the psychic could read his movements, the vulpine was constantly out of reach.

That was the plan—lure the enemy into attacking head-on, waiting for the right moment to . . .

"Now, Vulpix!"

Upon his command, the Vulpix unleashed a flurry of embers into the Meditite's face. At this close proximity, he couldn't miss. Crying out, the little blue pokémon halted its assault to wipe at its eyes, as if hoping to rub out the burning sensation. However, with its arms covering its face, the Meditite left itself wide open.

"Follow through!"

Vulpix complied, tackling directly with a head-butting to the stomach, both winding the foe and forcing it to the ground at the same time. Satisfied with his work, Ryan called the vulpine to back off, giving the Meditite time to gather itself.

The sound from the crowd was enormous now. Cries of cheering and jeering for their favorite contestants mixed with shouts of encouragements and whoops of triumph. It was beginning to overwhelm and disrupt Ryan's concentration on the battle.

Karen didn't seem phased by it, though. Her attention was completely focused on the battle at hand. It was far from over, and she could not afford to get distracted. She was stubborn, a tough one, not easy to take down. Ryan knew this from experience. "Prepare your thunderpunch!"

_Again?_ Ryan thought, a little taken aback by the command._ Is that all you've got?_ He had to admit, it was a little uncreative of her. Had he exhausted all of her tricks this already? He had not expected to flush out her trump card so early. But then, if that was her best shot . . . then this means that the Meditite didn't have any ranged attacks!

_As I thought—any psychic training its had has been limited to a purely defensive aspect. _Ryan thought as he looked across the field. If that was its best move, then he had the match in the bag.

The Meditite was raising its fist in accordance with its trainer's orders. Their gazes met. It had that same look in its eyes from back when it had beaten Marill.

_. . . Still, it could prove problematic if that connected . . ._

"It's time we showed them your special technique, Vulpix," Ryan said over the din of the crowd.

The Vulpix nodded, and bowed his head as if in concentration. Then, the vulpine began to cough up Ember after Ember, not at the Meditite, but instead at the ground beneath him.

The flames burst shorter and shorter away, until they curled around the lip of his muzzle. The more fire he added, the further it spread. By allowing the flames to overlap and mingle, the reflective properties of the Vulpix's fur would shield him, virtually covering his body in flames. This was Ryan's ultimate strategy—a combination of Flame Wheel and Flash Fire. It was the perfect defense against plotters like Karen. Even _if_ the Meditite was advanced enough to anticipate his pokémon's moves, it still didn't understand the fundamental power that is fire.

The Meditite hesitated, trying to understand what was going on. Karen looked similarly dumbfounded.

_That's right_, Ryan thought, mentally directing his thoughts at Karen's distress. _You won't find this in any textbook_.

"Charge."

The Vulpix complied, and rushed toward his opponent. The Meditite had put its guard up, but it could still counter with its thunderpunch. It was anyone's match now, with the odds as they were.

Ryan bet on fire.

_Let's see if it can stand the heat._

The Meditite hesitated. It was probably too stunned by the sight of a living fireball bearing down upon it, and as such wasn't fully prepared for the attack. The flaming tackle hit the fight-type hard, leaving it down on its knees with mild (but painful) burns all along its forearms. Yet, in spite of all that, it was still trying to get up, gasping for breath through gritted teeth.

The referee signaled a "Down!" on the red corner, remaining focused on the downed Meditite. Ryan glanced upward. The clock still had another two minutes on the round, but if the pokémon could not stand up in the next ten or so seconds, the referee would have to call it. Already the flashing red numerals of the down-count had appeared beneath the timer.

Karen shouted her encouragements, as she usually did when her pokémon were in a tight spot. The Meditite tried to respond, continuing its struggle to stand.

But then the clock hit zero.

"Round two is over! By judge's decision, Meditite is unable to continue the battle! The round goes to Vulpix!"

The ref. yelled as if she was trying to shout over the crowd, but such vocalization was not necessary.

The crowd had gone silent.

* * *

Coy had unknowingly been gradually inching forward in his seat as the tension in the stadium built up. The hush that passed through after Ryan's Vulpix had surrounded itself in flames had signaled a profound astonishment in every spectator, even in the usually reserved Prof. Coy.

_That last move, could it have been . . . _

"What a magnificent use of Flash Fire!" The praise Brash laid upon his student was beginning to annoy Prof. Coy, but it was well-founded. That move had had staggered the imagination. He looked over at his colleague. Did Prof. Brash understand the implications here?

"Almost a year he's had that one. Didn't think he could advance its capabilities so far in that time," Brash remarked, his statement seeped with sincere praise. "Every morning you could find him have it running laps around the track, if not through the town streets, with him following close behind on his bike."

Coy nodded, understanding his reasoning. The physical condition of the Vulpix was first-rate. It was performing exceptionally, having easily overcome its psychic-type adversary. Truly this wasn't a battle Coy had expected to see in the trainer school level. The intensity of it was beyond what he had been anticipating.

Still, Coy couldn't call it, not just yet. This turnaround only put the two contestants at about even. They each had one pokémon left, the girl having yet to reveal her last.

Coy meshed his fingers, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hand. If there was any other inclination of interest, Coy didn't show it. It had only been a minute ago, and already the third round was about to start . . .

* * *

Karen had recalled her Meditite, handing it quickly over to the medical professional stationed on the sidelines. She looked a little worried. Ryan could tell, because she was biting the upper-left corner of her lip. It was a nasty little habit of hers, but an excellent tell.

Ryan's Vulpix had wandered over to his side. The brilliant fire that had covered him earlier had disappeared. The fire-type looked ragged, his once glossy coat now covered in dark patches, either from soot or scorched fur due to the intense heat. Occasionally, he coughed up smoke.

What the little guy had just used wasn't a true Flame Wheel. Ryan knew that. The fire didn't swirl around the feet and sides of the firefox, enough though it may have looked like it. Rather it engulfed him, streaming from his head straight down to his six tails.

The student protégé glanced down at his pokémon partner. The move had its downsides, to be sure, but it got the job done.

"Round Three!"

A burst of light from the red corner revealed Karen's second pokémon to be a Gloom. Type match-up alone would have put this match squarely in his pocket, but Ryan knew better than to rely on that. He had already seen how much Karen had improved her Meditite's stamina in the first round, so he could only guess what advancements her Gloom had made.

"Keep your guard up, Vulpix."

The little fox growled in agreement, sinking into his signature relaxed stance. The little fire pokémon gazed over at the walking flower, which just stood there, drooling.

Karen was biting her lip again, and Ryan felt a little more confident. If Karen was nervous about this match-up, then he shouldn't be.

"Attack from a distance with Ember."

Vulpix responded immediately, launching a flurry of tiny but intense flames that danced wildly in the breeze, carried up against wind by his super-heated breath, in the general direction of the plant pokémon.

"Gloom, defend with petal dance!"

The Gloom bent its head forward, as if acknowledging that it had heard, and began to spin. As it spun, loose petals and leaves flew off, the centrifugal force and extra surface area creating a small, isolated whirlwind. The embers just blew on past without burning so much as a single leaf.

Well, Karen never made it easy for him before, so why should now be any different.

"Gloom, use your stun spore!"

The grass-pokémon lowered its head again, and then began shaking, scattering a wispy, russet-colored cloud in Vulpix's direction.

That's when Ryan remembered. The reason his Vulpix's attack had even reached the Gloom was because his heated breath had forced it to. This morning was a bit on the chilly side, despite the fact that it was early spring. It was why Ryan wore a coat, and why Vulpix's embers flew as far as they did. It would not have gone so well if it was, say 30º centigrade.

This was why he kept his focus wide, because otherwise he would not have noticed that the wind was in his face.

_Damn_. He was downwind of the weed's noxious cloud!

"Flame wheel, quick!" It didn't matter if it was the real thing or not, only that he get it up in time!

The Vulpix, at first wary of this choice, reluctantly complied. It resumed its coughing fit, forcing up the flames that licked at his muzzle and spread to cover his body. Since he was both breathing and engulfed in flame, any spores that came in close enough proximity burned up without harming him.

Ryan looked across at his rival. If she didn't stop, that lip of hers might turn bloody. While their attacks had been mutually voided, she knew that this was far from stalemate. She knew what he would do next. The real question was, Ryan asked himself, _what will _she_ do?_

Well, only one way to find out. "Tackle it, Vulpix."

The Vulpix coughed in acknowledgement, then dashed in the direction of his foe. Hopefully, he could keep the flames up long enough to secure victory. Ryan looked on anxiously as Vulpix closed the gap. He was now two meters away. One—

"Acid!" Karen yelled.

_Crap._ She _never_ made easy.

The Gloom shifted its stance, the sudden movement sending some liquid from the top of its flower fly out toward the firefox. Ryan held his breath. Fire would not burn _that_ away. Never in his short life had he been put so on edge by such a phrase.

Imagine his relief when the firefox barely sidestepped the spew.

_Nimble_. Man, did he like that Vulpix.

The rest of the attack went smoothly, just as they had practiced all those nights before. Vulpix hit the plant paws-first, toasting it mainly between its petals and face, before jumping off and stepping behind it. By the end, the Gloom was sitting on the ground, nursing a burnt forehead. It had obviously been well-trained, as the startle reflex of releasing a horrid didn't kick in. But it clearly wasn't enough to stop it.

Ryan didn't restrain his Vulpix this time. The moment the firefox got behind the oversized flower, he turned to fire a point-blank fury of embers upon its back. The weed screeched as the drier leaves caught fire, curling black and crisp in the small inferno.

The medical stand-by jumped up, motioning for the referee to cut the match off. The ref. in turn immediately stepped in, signaling Karen to recall her Gloom. After Karen complied, the ref. raised her green flag. "Round three is finished! By T.K.O. the round goes to Vulpix! Without anymore usable pokémon, the match goes to the green corner, Ryan Pilate!"

Karen looked pissed. Ryan couldn't help but smile at the vain face she made. It felt good taking that high-and-mighty prissy down a notch.

He looked down at his Vulpix, who had started to walk back over. The little guy had pushed himself up to his endurance point, keeping his fire up so high for so long. His coat was in tatters, but it was only a discoloration that could be easily cleaned out. Ryan was grateful, true, and he would make sure to give him an extra helping of the spicy food it liked so much.

But this was _his_ moment.

* * *

"Satisfied now?" Brash asked his esteemed colleague.

Coy stood up, not bothering to answer. The boy had won, yes, and from no shortage of talent in battling that the aged professor could see. Still . . .

The League representative looked over at Ryan's Vulpix. The creature was wheezing from over exertion—that technique clearly not an ability it was accustomed to using. As if to prove a point, the fox collapsed to one knee just as Ryan recalled it. The boy studied the ball for a moment, as if contemplating a piece of art in a museum.

Coy didn't like it. The kid was too reserved, too calculated. Most trainers in his situation would at least congratulate their pokémon, even if they would only say it to their closed pokéballs, thinking that, somehow, the pokémon could hear them. Not this kid. He looked at it for a moment, looking like he was going to do _something_ with it, but then passed it off to the medic as he came up. "Done here," Coy could almost hear him say, so inexpressive were his movements, as if he were putting a tool back in the box. Pleased that his task was done, the winner (for that is what he was) put his hands in his pockets and casually looked around.

He looked at his rival first, giving a glance made to say, "oh, it's still there." He looked around the stadium next, picking out cheering individuals as they stood on top of their seats. His gaze continued to wander around the crowd in a full circuit, until they came to Coy's section.

Their eyes met.

* * *

Ryan wasn't celebrating. Well, not on the outside anyway. After looking around the entire stadium, his eyes came to rest on the presidential box, where he had seen the headmaster sitting next to the League representative. They were both still there, even though the professor in the long brown overcoat was in the process of vacating his seat.

Their eyes met for a brief moment.

At that moment, Ryan wondered if he had he given enough of a show. The look in the man's eyes said that he was not happy. What had happened to displease him so?

He watched on as his principal and the man with long silver hair, the man he suspected to be the Pokémon League representative professor, walk out of the stadium without saying a single word.

This would mark the start of a very unpleasant couple of weeks.


	5. Interview with the Professor

**A/N:****IMPORTANT! VERY IMPORTANT! MUST—READ!**

Okay people, here's the 411.

It's been over a year since I last posted. The situation does not look good, but I've not given up. Rather I've given myself a swift kick in the ass and gone back to the keyboard.

I'm reposting a different version of this chapter on the reasoning that where I left off at didn't quite deliver the message I wanted. Some elements felt forced and weren't needed while others, more important points, were altogether missing. Oh, I had planned the next several chapters since then — hell, I've this story outlined to near-entirety — but I couldn't get past how unnatural this chapter felt. So I've come up with a slightly different scenario, one that ultimately has the same outcome but closer to my original message. I've already accomplished one goal for my readers, although some of you are still suspicious.

What's changed? I've added a few extra scenes which I felt made the transition from battle to interview more fluid, but I've also added two other characters and cut another. The biggest change, however, is the ending. I personally feel that this approach is far superior to the "report to the principal's office" rehash of the first chapter. Let us never go back there.

I've also changed a fact in Chapter 2: Ryan now only has two school pokémon. This is because I feel one year is not enough time for a beginner to raise three pokémon to fighting conditions, especially when placed next to the hours one must devote to school and studying. I have another reason for reducing the number of school pokémon a student has, one which will hopefully be obvious in the coming chapters. For those who wonder what I was going to use to fill in the third slot, I was thinking of a Zubat.

I know this is highly unusual and unpleasant for those who had already reviewed, but bear with me. To make up for it I'm going to post the next chapter within the next few days.

**Disclaimer:** Still nothing to update.

Chapter is approximately eight pages long, 3,681 words (not including title and author notes). Here's your second helping.

**

* * *

**

Chapter 5: Interview with the Professor

"What can you tell me about him?"

It was a question Prof. Coy had rolling around his head since the match began, and only afterwards, as his colleague Prof. Brash was leading him out of the stadium, did he gain the composure to ask.

"Do you mean that what you just saw wasn't enough?" was Brash's immediate response, eyebrow raised in his standard posture of mock-surprise. Coy shot him a sideways glance, getting Brash to subconsciously rub at his bearded chin—a tell that he was pondering the question seriously.

"Well . . . he's intelligent, quick-witted, committed to his training, and also the top battle strategist in the School," Brash graciously replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

"I can see that for myself, Henry. He's been a student under you for the past three years. In all that time I'm certain you've met with him under less formal circumstances. I want to know what you _personally_ think of him."

"Personally? Hm, well. . . ."

Brash's stride did not break. He took a deep breath in and, almost reluctantly, began. "He has a unique sense of perception, which prevents him from looking at things as being straight-forward . . . " Brash trailed off, taking a moment to think about what he was about to say. "This can, at times, put him at odds with the teachers, as well as some of the other students."

He paused again, letting the information sink in before continuing. "He can be a tad arrogant, and thinks everything is a competition. He tries to one-up people even when it's not appropriate—_especially_ when he knows it's not appropriate." At once his mood changed. He lifted himself straighter, higher. "But he works hard, and he's naturally gifted in the field of perception. He's drawn up some unique strategies about pokémon battling that have astonished me, and _then_ he makes it seem like it's common sense!"

Coy nodded his head in a manner that feigned interest, but Brash could see that he had been expecting more. After all those years in school together, the headmaster knew how his colleague thought. A man of science, Coy was very thorough. He minced no words and just said what his colleague was looking for.

"That, and probably as a result of his atypical nature, his training methods sometimes come off as a little . . . extreme, especially for someone so young."

Coy's face held no visible reaction. It was what he had come to suspect from what he had seen in the match. It was rare thing to see a school-issue pokémon so well conditioned. Even so, he'd have to go the next step, just to be sure.

"I want a full checkup on that Vulpix he used."

"It's standard procedure after every match. I'll have it so the infirmary staff send you a copy," Brash replied. "He's an intelligent kid. Why don't I arrange a meeting?"

* * *

Ryan was a little worn after the events of the Trial. Karen was his rival for a reason, but he'd succeeded, confident that he must have left a good impression. He had won after all, humiliating his rival in front of the school assembly almost single-handedly with Vulpix. He even gained the attention of the League representative, which was supposed to be a good thing.

_Then why I feel so uneasy?_ he voiced to his disquieted mind.

His celebration on the field had been short-lived. After he met that man's gaze, all sense of triumph had vanished. The way he stared at him, face free of countenance of any sort, made Ryan feel like he had failed to accomplish anything at all.

A dark thought entered his mind, a sense that something was eluding him. It was a barely conscious thought, a mental reflex he hadn't experienced for a long time, but it drew him to a horrible prediction.

_What if did something wrong? Damn it. _He slammed his fist onto the lunch table. The plastic tray clattered, signaling others in the room to turn and look at him. He ignored them. He did not want to dwell on this now, not after his victory. He'd won, _period_. That was the unequivocal truth and all that mattered.

Having reassured himself, Ryan went back to eating his lunch of stir-fry. A short moment later the world normalized as all the heads that had turned before went back to their previous activities of either stuffing their faces or carrying on trivial conversations. Back to normal, exactly as it should be.

"Have you been to see your pokémon yet?"

Ryan let the fork fall the few centimeters back onto the plate.

_That's right, back to normal._

Karen stood off to his side along the table, arms crossed in her casually condescending manner. He had to turn over his shoulder to look at her. She was giving him the evil stare. It was a trademark of hers.

"I saw them brought in while the nurse was checking Meditite's blood pressure. Both are in pretty bad shape."

_What a fool. Of course she would insist on staying hunched over the pokémon, getting in the way of the doctor and nurses. She probably didn't even budge until the staff had finished all the preliminary tests_.

"They need their trainer to watch over them."

_Yes, I get it, _Ryan thought to himself. _You're supposed to be the good guy. But this isn't that Saturday tv show! Stop trying to live out that fantasy and think for once!_

"They're not really mine," Ryan states calmly. "Those Meditite and Gloom aren't yours either. They belong to the school as leased out by the League."

Karen glowered. "I don't understand how you can sit there and say that."

"Because it's true." He forked another load of rice into his mouth. "When we graduate in the next few days they'll be returned to the Gym Leader, and we'll all start again from scratch. There's no point in getting them attached to us."

"You've had them for almost a year. Besides, you are a trainer, aren't you?" He didn't even realize that she had sat down at the head of the table. Her eyes were more civil now, but no less piercing. "How can you be expected to take care for pokémon out in the wild when you're not even there for them now?"

"They're in the hands of trained professionals. They don't need me hanging around and getting in the way."

"But you—"

"No, you look," Ryan said, starting to get exasperated at these verbal bombardments, "if you want to make me feel bad about winning the match, it's not working. It was my training, my coaching, and my strategies that won out. _You_—" he punctuated this one word with his upturned fork "—have no right to act so condescending toward me. You had your chance to prove me wrong, and you blew it."

Karen momentarily met his stare. She had the look of a person who had been tinkering with a puzzle for ages; her facial muscles contorted in a mixture of frustration and confusion. Then, in quiet grace, she stood up, turned her back, and walked off to a table at the other end of the cafeteria.

Ryan turned his full attention back to the plate, savoring the silence more than the sauce. _Quiet. That's better than normal._

"Pilate."

Ryan let out another long sigh. That deep condescending voice, reverberating with cynicism. It could only be Mr. Costello. "The League representative wants to speak with you."

"Really?" Ryan asked the teacher standing behind him while reaching for a paper napkin. "Where at?"

"In the infirmary."

_The infirmary?_ Ryan wondered. _An unusual choice. _Deliberately, he got up, shelved his tray, and walked over to the double-doors on the opposite end of the room, Mr. Costello following silently nearby. Karen didn't even glance as he passed by; she continued staring into oblivion.

The cafeteria opened out to the same hallway Ryan had traversed yesterday. As before when he neared the headmaster's office, the grey-beige-painted wall on the right side gave way to glass, revealing the spectacle of forest that stretched from the edge of the campus grounds to the roots of the Silver Mountain Range.

In five days this roughly one-hundred-square kilometer of rough terrain would become the site of the School's Wilderness Trial, an orienteering obstacle course that was the last of the School's graduation requirements. The final hurdle. Passing it would mean a life of freedom that he had longed for these past three years. To finally become a pokémon trainer, universally-held proof that he had the fortitude and resourcefulness to live on his own. The only means of emancipation before age 18.

He only spent a few moments by the window, longer than he probably should have. Mr. Costello caught up behind him, his mere presence enough to send Ryan a mental nudge. From there it was only a few doors past the headmaster's office to the infirmary.

The automatic doors slid open on his approach. Inside was a man, standing next to a side table and with his back against the wall. Ryan instantly recognized him as the guest who had sat with the headmaster in the presidential box during today's Battle Trial. Remembering their brief encounter earlier that morning, Ryan stiffened and immediately went on guard. The League's representative was flipping through some papers in a manila folder. Seeing Ryan enter, he quickly shut the file and laid it on the nearby end-table.

"Hello Ryan Pilate. I am Prof. Coy, League liaison to the Violet Trainer School." His voice was toneless, showing no emotion, not even interest. "I'm here to evaluate the students for the League's Premier Rookie Sponsorship."

"Hello," Ryan said, relaxing a little. _So, it's just an interview_.

"I've just been going over a few things from the school archives before you arrived. Your grades," he held out the manila folder, "are exemplary." He then tossed it rather nonchalantly on top of the pile, and recited the rest from memory. "A running average of 3.89, the top competitor in the singles pokémon battles and the 100meter dash in track and field, and completed a total of six extended field-studies, three of which with department heads. I have also received seven letters of recommendation from respectable faculty members of this institution."

"However, there is little here about group or team-related activities. Your partnered doubles pokémon battling only goes as far as the classroom. Your track coach, a Mr. Costello, made mention that you don't interact well with your teammates, and that you would only participate in relays when an emergency substitute needed to be filled. In fact, there is no mention of you applying for any team-related sports."

_That's an . . . odd statement. _Ryan hoped his confusion didn't show. "What can I say? I just feel I don't get along well with any of the other students."

"I see." He sat down, gesturing Ryan to do the same. A simple hand motion was all that was the student needed to turn him down. "And why do you want to be a trainer?"

It was not an unexpected question. Ryan used the prepared response.

"I love the outdoors." He shuffled his feet some, trying to make it convincing. "I like the idea of roaming between towns, absorbing the environment while picking up and training pokémon along the way. Eventually I'll take this team I'll have built to the Pokémon League, make a name for myself, maybe even get some endorsements, and use what I've earned to travel further."

"And you think you current training methods will accomplish that?"

That terrible feeling from earlier had re-surfaced. Ryan quit his fiddling. "You don't think so?"

Coy quickly nodded. "Yes. In fact your training methods are a topic of much concern to me. It's what I had you brought here to talk about." Coy's voice had grown firm. "Especially about that vulpix,"

"What about him?" Ryan asked, his original wariness becoming marred by annoyance at this old man's campy showmanship.

Coy flipped through some papers he had drawn from a folder in the pile. "The vulpix you used put up quite an impressive display. I've never seen such fire from a school pokémon. That technique you taught it, do you know what it's called?"

Ryan suppressed a shrug, keeping his glaze fixed upon the representative. "Not sure. I was aiming for teaching him Flame Wheel, but it didn't match the simulated images in the library or on the 'net."

Coy had to turn sideways and direct his gaze down on the paper, to hide his astonishment. He couldn't believe it, because it shouldn't be possible, yet here was the proof. And this boy . . .

_He has no idea,_ the professor thought.

In an instant Coy snapped the folder shut and strode halfway across the room to tower over Ryan. Ryan jumped at this move. It was the first reaction he had seen the professor make. It happened so abruptly that he was pinned by the glare from Coy's hawk-like face.

"That attack your vulpix pulled off was not Flame Wheel. It is called Flare Blitz, a high level fire-type move where the pokémon engulfs itself in flames and charges recklessly at its opponent." He pointed his finger at the student. "And you should not be teaching it yet."

_Flare Blitz?_ Ryan furled his eyebrows, trying to remember where he had heard that term before.

Coy leaned forward, as if to make himself more clearly heard, pointed his index finger at Ryan's chest. "It's an extremely advanced technique that does damage to the user. For a more experienced pokémon this recoil is minimal; they know how to handle it. But you—" he jabbed harder, accusingly "—forced it on a young vulpix who doesn't have enough experience controlling its fire. You should have noticed the damage it was suffering early on when you were first experimenting with it. But you kept pushing it, with no concern for the health or wellbeing of your ward!"

Ryan stood still. True, Vulpix did have some trouble learning the technique, but there weren't any signs of strenuous fatigue or injury from using it during training, and Ryan had always made sure to give him plenty of rest afterward.

Coy stepped back to the table, returning holding up some sheets he had drawn from the many layers of manila folder, and held it out in front of the would-be trainer. "The medical report on your Vulpix." He watched as Ryan took it and gently flipped through the pages. "This was performed immediately after your battle. It was a rushed examination, but the initial assessment more than confirmed my suspicions."

Ryan recognized some of the terms used, fragments from his Pokémon Anatomy and Biology classes, but nothing beyond word recognition. He closed it softly. "Where are you going with this?" he asked cautiously.

Coy yanked them from his hands. " 'Severe internal scorching and overheating of the internal heat sacs, ash and soot build-up in the lungs, burned gums from excessive use of flame'—how do you _not_ understand the significance of this?"

"No. Now tell me," Ryan challenged. It wasn't sarcasm. Ryan was trying to play this serious, but it was getting frustrating. The man couldn't just answer his question; he would have to drag the explanation out.

"All starter pokémon given to beginner trainers by the League are bred for temperament. They are outgoing and willing to try new things, but most of all, they are cooperative." Coy folded his hands. "As a young trainer, you are arrogant in strategy and brutal in practice. Far more than usual. To give such a creature of enormous potential for power in your hands would lead to self-devastation on your part and a tainting of the League's name. Because it would not know any better, it will follow you in every one of your decisions. With no check to control yourself, you would push it to its death."

Ryan met his gaze levelly, but he did not speak.

"After going through this data I have come to the conclusion that you are unfit to act in individual interaction with any pokémon, and it is my personal opinion that you be restricted from obtaining trainer membership. While I regret letting such a potentially exceptional trainer as yourself go, the League simply cannot take the chance of giving you such a valuable asset."

For several long seconds the room was saturated with silence. Coy straightened, retrieved the report, and retreated back to the end-table on the other side of the room to place it back on the pile.

"You say you won't give me a pokémon," Ryan stated calmly, breaking the silence while Coy had his back to him, "but what is preventing me from going out and purchasing one from an unaffiliated breeder?"

"There's no such thing as unaffiliated when it comes to the League," came the collected reply. "No one will sell you a pokémon if we don't issue you a license. And even if you do manage to obtain one, what then? Your situation goes beyond merely having a pokémon follow you around. The League won't recognize it because they won't recognize you. You will be unable to participate in League-sanctioned events."

Ryan was in a state of shock. This was the worst-case scenario—no, this was unthinkable. He had expected scrutiny, unfounded suspicion, even prying for some hidden character flaw, but not outright dismissal. Coy had apparently noticed this, and shifted to make his presence less imposing. He may have slouched a couple millimeters.

"Nonetheless, the fact it managed to learn the technique at such a young age is extraordinary. I believe that it says much about the pokémon, but your headmaster places the accomplishment squarely at your feet. Headmaster Brash has resisted my recommendation to expel you. He's even asked me to reconsider my decision."

Coy sat down on the couch, letting the files fall back onto to end table. His posture didn't relax, but was just as straight-backed and composed as since Ryan first entered the infirmary. "He's a dear colleague of mine, and his opinion carries much weight. As such, I've decided to give you another chance." He said this last part with visible reluctance.

"Another?"

"To change my mind."

"Your mind is already made up?"

"Of course."

"Isn't that a little unfair?"

Coy's gaze, softened by his confession, had hardened once again. "You claim that you love the outdoors, that you'll care for the pokémon you catch, but your records don't indicate this behavior. You've always returned your pokémon back to the handler before dinner every day. You let the handlers feed them for every meal except lunch. You never even checked them out for a weekend outing, as every other student seems to have done. I've seen this kind of detached attitude in students before. I believe you just don't have an interest in this. Oh, you may like to be outside, and off doing your own thing, but you don't really love pokémon. Otherwise you would have spent more time outside of school working with them.

"I'll allow you to participate in the upcoming trainer trial. It'll be a practical simulation of what you'll expect on the road. You'll be around your pokémon all 24 hours of the day, and no handlers to take the baggage off your hands, as it were. You'll have to feed, care, clean, and constantly check their health as you would if you were already on your journey. Do you think this is an unfair expectation of you?"

"I have no problems with that."

"One more mistake like this one, be it a repeat or something entirely new, and you won't be getting that graduation certificate on Sunday a week from now."

"It won't happen again then," Ryan said, surprising himself with how confident he said it.

Coy turned down to his papers. "I can almost guarantee that it will."

Ryan glared while the professor began shuffling the folders into a leather attaché case. "Well, now that we have that settled I'll be seeing the next student up for qualification." He stopped when he reached the bottom of the pile. A lone paper had caught his attention.

"Oh yes, this is for you."

Ryan took it. "What is it?"

"Written notice for the return of the vulpix the school loaned to you."

Ryan started. He moved to hand it back. "No thanks."

Coy stared at him askance. "It's not an offer."

"I cannot accept this. I've put a lot into that vulpix. My entire tactical structure is based around it."

"I'm to understand that you're a highly versatile individual. You'll just have to make do without."

Ryan was beginning to lose his composure. The thought of traversing four days of obstacles with just _Marill _. . . he wouldn't be able to do it. "You've got to give me a better chance than this."

Coy did not even so much as face him as he closed the attaché case. "This was not up to me, it was a personal request from the Violet Gym Leader. The vulpix will have to be returned to her custody. She will be here tomorrow morning to pick it up. Personally I agree with her decision."

"No, there has—"

"Now look, if you want to use it for the upcoming Wilderness Trial, you'll have to convince her tomorrow. Now, it's time for you to leave." Coy hefted his case in the direction of the doorway.

"Now, good day, Mister Pilate."

Defeated, Ryan moved abjectly toward the exit. Within two paces of the aperture, too soon to register his movement, it abruptly slid open. A tall woman wearing a fitted leather jacket and sporting a pinned-up black braid stood in the way. Ryan instantly recognized her as the city's resident icon.

_Violet City Gym Leader Faile Argenwright._

"I know I'm early," she said to Coy. "So, is this the one?"

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Before anyone comments about the punctuation of Pokémon and Pokémon names, I only capitalize the first letter if the name is a proper noun. If it's wild, it's a sentret. If you caught her and didn't give her a nickname, then she is Sentret. _


End file.
